Plains

Distance can have
no sound. It is an action
in silence. From its center of the tall

grasses the plains will catapult

you to every edge in one
motion—vision, length, horizon

and back to where you are. This can be
learned in the giant light of midday, but the sun
will make you its fool
if you try, will convince you that the place
you are is whole. Distance here is

best practiced in dusk, when you must know
that everything is further
than you. For when the light begs to stay
but can’t, it will carry you with it instead. And though

this happens anywhere

that light leaves, it is only the land
that allows it. The soft wide expanses of untethered
earth will give falling light all it
needs to cascade, to roll flat away as a sea of orange

mist recoiling to the
other side. Like a fear

of heights brought about
by open space, the plains
will offer you

up to the waning sky. Do not look
down. Distance
is everywhere.